


Instinctual

by sardonicsmiley



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wraith Enzyme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-04
Updated: 2008-06-04
Packaged: 2020-12-29 16:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonicsmiley/pseuds/sardonicsmiley
Summary: Sam's mouth is brilliant red, and she licks her lips, shifting, watching him with flashing blue eyes when he circles her.





	Instinctual

**Author's Note:**

> Wraith enzyme is a drug, right? Right. Also, this is the second of these little porn-y pieces that I've really wanted to turn into a longer series. Also? This is the halfway point for me! Woo!
> 
> Beta: sherriaisling, who reassured me again that I was not completely insane for writing this. And yes. The kinks I like best are getting betas.

The guards bring them back to the cell, bloody and victorious. Rodney's blood is singing, burning through his veins with each pound of his heart. The pain from the injuries littered across his body registers only as a distant ache and a feeling of joy. The bonds around his neck and arms infuriate him, and he jerks against them, snarling when his handlers jab their stinging, sparking prods against his skin. 

The guards shove the woman into the cell first, releasing the chains around her arms, striking her hard across her face when she lunges for the door. Rodney growls, thrashing against his captors, hearing them shout and scream, trying to hold him. 

One of them strikes him in the back of the head, hard enough that Rodney tastes blood in his mouth. They shove him into the cell while he's dazed, scrambling to release the chains that hold him, tripping over themselves to get the door closed behind them. 

Rodney is a half second too slow to reach them, stalking back and forth in front of the bars, growling as they retreat down the hallway. He can smell the fear on them, thick and pathetic, and feels his own anger spike higher from it. That they trap him in here, and then run cowering from him, sets a hot flame of anger burning in his chest. 

When they're gone, scurrying away like vermin, Rodney turns from the door, still rumbling low in his chest. The woman—Sam, her name is Sam, he has to remember—is standing in the middle of the cell, watching him. Her pale hair is tangled and loose, soaked with blood, hanging all around her face. Her bottom lip is split from the parting blow the guards left her with, her cheeks smeared with dust and sweat. Her clothing is torn, jacket gone, undershirt clinging to her skin. 

Rodney can smell her, the female scent of her, under the blood and the unfamiliar wrongness of this place. It stirs something in him, almost anger, but deeper, sharper. He can feel the change in the sound of his growl, letting his eyes drop half lidded, taking a deep breath. 

Sam smiles, something wide and dangerous, her teeth stained red. She is on him in less than a second, slamming him hard against the bars of their cell, rubbing her body up against his, knocking his chin to the side with an absent blow of her hand and closing her teeth over his neck. 

She feels good. More than good. Perfect. Rodney's knuckles are bloody and busted, he killed someone not ten minutes ago, and that had felt right as well. But he can't let her push him, and she should know better. He snarls at her, grabbing her thick hair and yanking her head back, shoving her away. 

Her teeth catch at his skin from the violent displacement, and he can feel the sting of a new wound. Sam's mouth is brilliant red, and she licks her lips, shifting, watching him with flashing blue eyes when he circles her. She's favoring her left leg, where the big male in the arena had kicked her, right before Rodney had bashed his head in with a rock. 

Just the memory of another male touching her sparks fury in Rodney's chest. He clenches his fists, knuckles burning, watching her breathe, fast and shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. When he feints for her, she dodges, laughing, striking a blow across his back, lightning quick.

Sam is fast and strong, and that appeals to him, someplace deep inside. She matches him. And she saved him, when the one with the filed teeth had been about to rip Rodney's throat out and she jumped onto its back, twisting its neck back and to the side with a snap Rodney had felt.

She says, her voice joyful, "You're slow." 

Rodney matches her smile, his jaw aching from one of the blows dealt to him. They circle each other, adrenaline burning and stinging through Rodney's veins, laced with something sharper, harder. Rodney works them slowly towards one of the corners, and then pauses, cocking his head to the side, taking the opportunity to just drink in the sight of her. 

It takes her only seconds to realize that there's nowhere for her to go. She laughs again, delighted and sharp, and with no escape, she charges him instead. She throws herself at him, wild and vicious, throwing a punch that he catches, yanking her closer. 

Pressed close together, he can feel how quickly her heart is beating, see how wide her eyes are as she grins up at him. She rubs up against him again, a long movement of her entire body, making a sound in her chest, purring. Rodney echoes the sound, tilting his head down, watching her expression, held back from just taking what he wants by a tiny, furious voice in the back of his skull. 

Sam reaches up, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down and pulling herself up, kissing him hard. Her teeth catch on his lips, blood bursting salty and hot between their mouths, slicking down chins and across cheeks. She forces her tongue into his mouth, and Rodney growls, yanking her back again, ignoring her expression of startled sadness. It doesn't last long, anyway.

Rodney crowds and shoves her up against the wall, taking her smiling mouth again, shoving a leg between her thighs, fisting one hand in her hair to hold her in place, his other braced against the wall by her shoulder. Her mouth tastes like blood. Rodney nips at her lips, feeling her do the same, sharing each other's air. Sam grinds against his leg, making that pleased purring sound again, her hands all over his body, gripping and pulling at him, trying to drag him closer.

Rodney's shirt is already in shreds, knives and rocks having done no favors for the thin cotton. When Sam yanks on it, muscles working beneath her skin, it tears. She makes a thick, happy sound against Rodney's mouth, dragging her nails down his back, pain that makes him rumble, knock her chin to the side, bite at the column of her neck.

When Rodney drops his hands, grabbing her thighs right below her hips and lifting her, she laughs again. Her legs wrap around his waist without hesitation, the heels of her boots digging into his back. Rodney grinds against her through the fabric of their clothes, pinning her to the wall with his hips, leaning his upper body back to tear and rip at her shirt.

Her pale skin is smeared with blood and dirt. There is a gash along her collarbone and Rodney scowls, bowing his back, licking over it. She arches away from the wall, her hands gripping at his shoulders, no longer fighting him, twisting her hips impatiently. 

Rodney steps away from the wall, and she laughs again, tightening her legs around his waist, holding tight to his shoulders. Rodney lets her hold on, nuzzling into her hair, reaching down past her to tug and yank his pants off his hips. 

Her ass fits his hands perfectly when he manages to free his cock. He squeezes, feeling her throw her head back, her nails biting into his skin. Blood is slicking down his back, the scratches burn like fire. Rodney bites at her neck, going to his knees, leaning over, putting her back on the cold stone.

Sam hisses, trying to arch up off of it, and Rodney growls, leaning back, bracing a hand in the middle of her stomach and holding her down. She lashes out, backhanding him across the mouth, and Rodney licks his split lips, the salt and pain focusing him, setting another burst of fire across his nerves. He uses his other hand to yank on her bra until it comes off.

Her breasts are full and pale, soft. Rodney rumbles with appreciation, bending over her, taking one nipple into his mouth, nipping, sucking, licking over it. He feels her spine bow up, her hips shoving against his. She wraps both arms around his head, trying to pull him closer.

Rodney lingers, enjoying the sounds that he can draw from her throat, the way she trembles beneath him. His hands wander, down the curves of her body, to her pants. Her legs are still clenched around his waist, and when Rodney tugs on one of her thighs she just squeezes tighter.

Rodney growls, shifting, nipping at the underside of her breast. She cuffs him on the top of his head, but her legs relax. Rodney grins against her skin, shifting back, staring at her sprawled out before him. She's breathing fast and hard, her skin pink and flushed, reddened where his mouth has been, and by the blood smeared across it. 

Sam kicks at him after a moment and Rodney growls at her, catching her leg and yanking her boot off, throwing it across the room. He grabs her other leg before she can kick him again, pulling the boot off, then sliding his hands up the insides of her legs. 

She tosses her head back when his palms slide up her thighs, and Rodney drags his knuckles slowly across the warmth and heat between them. She makes a thick sound, pushing towards the pressure, and Rodney yanks her button and zipper open. The button goes spinning across the room. Rodney can hear it clattering across the stone floor even as he wrestles the pants off her legs. 

Her left knee is swollen, black and purple. Rodney scowls, rubbing his hand over it, rumbling unhappily when she hisses. He'd kill the bastard that did that again, if he could. But he can't. And the smell of her, drugging and thick, is overwhelming that worry, in any case.

Rodney shoulders his way between her thighs, one hand braced on her hip when he licks across the center of her. Sam makes a wild sound, jerking, and Rodney holds her, licking and sucking, drowning in the taste of her. It mixes with the blood taste already into his mouth, becoming something thick and salty. 

There is nothing he would rather be doing than this. This is worth all the men dead by his hand out in the arena. He tightens his grip on her hip, her legs wrapping around his head, tight, trembling. When she comes Rodney feels it, bringing his hand around, sliding two fingers into her. 

She is tight and wet, her juices mixed with his spit. She shudders around the intrusion, legs slipping off his shoulders, curling up off the floor and grabbing for him. Rodney ignores her, licking and sucking, and she deals him another blow, her voice sharp, "Come here." 

Rodney catches her wrist, twisting her arm until she yelps, then releasing her. When he raises his head she is staring at him, up on her elbows, her hair clinging to her skin everywhere it falls, her eyes wide, her mouth open. She purrs, grabbing for him again, "Fuck me, you bastard." 

Rodney jerks up, slamming her back flat against the floor, kissing her hard. She makes a sound at the taste of herself on his lips, licking at his skin, her fingers raking back through his hair, gripping his shoulders. Her thighs are open, she is hot and wet and Rodney reaches down to line himself up. 

When Rodney slides into her, he shouts, feeling it through his entire body, fire and pleasure and something that feels like insanity. Sam swallows the sound, echoing it with one of her own, her hands sliding across his shoulders and back. For a long moment they stay like that, still, locked together. 

It can't last. Rodney shifts back, thrusts into her. She gasps against his mouth, and then her neck is bowing back, her legs curling up over his hips again. Rodney grunts, burying his face against her neck, closing his mouth protectively over her pulse point, curling a hand up over the back of her head, cradling her skull as his hips work.

There is nothing soft here. Nothing slow. She matches his rhythm almost immediately, her voice shaping sounds that aren't words every time Rodney thrusts into her. Rodney squeezes his eyes shut, grunting, growling, chasing his release with everything he has. 

When he comes, he feels it through every inch of him, a tingle of relief and completion, fulfillment of purpose. It satisfies in a way that killing those men had not, spreads a deep, thick contentment through him, where the killing had been a fast quick burn of pleasure.

Sam is clinging to him, arms and legs wrapped around him, her head still thrown back. Rodney licks over the mark he left on her neck, moving to kiss her, her mouth open and relaxed beneath his. When she releases him, arms sliding off his shoulders, legs no longer clenched tight around his hips, Rodney shifts out of her. 

There is one blanket, lying in the corner. Rodney pads over to it, shaking it out and then returning to Sam. She blinks up at him sleepily, her mouth red and swollen, one of her eyes turning black, bruises and contusions scattered across her body. 

Rodney wraps her in the blanket, pushing and shifting her body towards the wall, and then curls up behind her. She pushes back against him once he settles, purring in her chest, and Rodney matches the sound, slinging an arm around her waist, working his hand under the blanket to flatten it over her stomach. 

After a moment, her fingers cover his and Rodney smiles.


End file.
